


Helpin' Me

by Raicho



Series: The Little Things [3]
Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Caring Rick, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, M/M, Morning Sickness, Mpreg, Pre-Zombie Apocalypse, Sick!Daryl, alpha!Rick, omega!Daryl
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-02
Updated: 2016-11-02
Packaged: 2018-08-28 16:24:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8453413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raicho/pseuds/Raicho
Summary: Daryl pictures driving out to the Grand Canyon with Rick and their son—their boy would have mussed brown hair and puppy-fat cheeks with a speckling of pale freckles, and his eyes would be the exact same shade as Rick’s. They’d all go out for a road trip, and Rick would carry their boy on his shoulders while standing tall and proud with Daryl at their side. And Daryl can imagine himself collecting photographs of their simple moments together frozen in time, framing each one on the walls of their home and filling in the empty spaces of his once barren heart.





	

**Author's Note:**

> *･゜ﾟ･*☆ (◕‿◕✿) ☆*･゜ﾟ･* More fluff!  
> Set after _Let's Be Friends_ and before _Deserve to be Spoiled_. Unbeta'd

            “Says he’s the size of a plum.”

            Daryl squeezes his eyes shut and lifts a hand to cover his mouth in an attempt to fight back the nauseating thought. He’s reclined on the couch, wearing two-day worn sweat pants and an old Motörhead t-shirt from his high school days (he doesn’t want to admit that it’s beginning to feel a bit tight), and he’s still nursing the glass of water that he poured for himself after having puked up half of his breakfast from an hour earlier. Rick’s sitting on the floor beside him with his back pressed against the couch and his nose stuck in some crack-job book about planned pregnancy.

            “Rick.” Daryl’s voice is strained and quiet as he begins his attempt to plead for his husband to stop talking.

            “The fetal digestive—”

            “Rick!” Daryl desperately snaps as he shoves at the alpha’s shoulder, “Yer grossin’ me out, man.”

            Honestly Daryl thought he could handle pregnancy.

            Daryl had heard of people getting sick at the slightest thought of scrambled eggs, but he’d figured he’d be exempt from that stereotype due to his frequently used skillsets. Daryl Dixon hunted Snow White’s forest friends on a regular basis, dragging their bloody carcasses back home to skin and gut for their next home-cooked meal. He’d never once been squeamish in his life, but as soon as he was six weeks into the whole preggo-deal he couldn’t help but hurl at every drop of blood, foul smell, or unpleasant thought that crossed his way. _Oh how the mighty have fallen_.

            “You’re grossed out?” Rick turns his head to look at Daryl over his shoulder, giving the omega an incredulous look, “Daryl, this is amazing! I can’t believe that—”

            Holding out a hand, Daryl silences Rick once more, “When yer th’ one throwin’ up an’ carryin’ th’ kid, then we can talk ‘bout it all y’ want.”

            And then Rick’s on him like flies on shit, crawling up to where Daryl’s head is rested atop a plush pillow and leaning in close to level Daryl with the most convincing set of puppy eyes he’s ever seen. The sight makes Daryl feel guilty for snapping like he did—he _knows_ that if Rick could take this burden from Daryl he would happily do it in a heartbeat.

            “M’ sorry…” Daryl grumbles as he leans over to sniff at the patch of skin behind Rick’s ear, “Just can’t think ‘bout that stuff right now is all… Makes me sick. I hate bein’ sick. Makes m’ even more useless.”

            And bless Rick for being the most amazing alpha Daryl ever had the pleasure of marrying, because Rick’s smiling at Daryl with the most perfectly blue eyes (Daryl hopes their baby will have eyes like its father’s) and he’s nodding with understanding.

            Rick’s hand slowly trails down the expanse of Daryl’s chest before settling over the small bump of the omega’s stomach, “You are by no means useless, Daryl. Heck you’re the one that’s doin’ all of the hard work here," Rick nods, “No, I’m sorry... I should be followin’ your lead on this," the alpha's kissing the top of Daryl's head, burying his nose within the short blond strands of his mate's hair, “I think I’m just a bit nervous ‘cause I don’t know what else to do to help..."

            The moment is tender between the two mates as Daryl lets his husband’s hand rub soothing circles overtop his now settling stomach, and Daryl wonders what Rick would be like as a father. He’s positive Rick would be an amazing parent—worlds better than any parent or guardian Daryl ever had that forced their way into his life.

            As the circles continue to soothe him, Daryl pictures driving out to the Grand Canyon with Rick and their son—their boy would have mussed brown hair and puppy-fat cheeks with a speckling of pale freckles, and his eyes would be the exact same shade as Rick’s. They’d all go out for a road trip, and Rick would carry their boy on his shoulders while standing tall and proud with Daryl at their side. And Daryl can imagine himself collecting photographs of their simple moments together frozen in time, framing each one on the walls of their home and filling in the empty spaces of his once barren heart.

            “Yer helpin’ me plenty already.” Daryl grins at the alpha.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments, kudos, & ideas are appreciated! :)


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